Watch Me Entertain Myself!

Sacha Guitry once said, "You can pretend to be serious, but you can't pretend to be witty." Oh yes, I'm the great pretender.

(pilot episode: 20 January 2004)

Monday, March 01, 2010

Bed Room Closet

After almost two months away, I stepped into my bedroom in our house in Marikina.

When I was still staying there, my stuff was scattered all over the place. My mom asked that I clear away most of them when I left, so that they can use my bedroom as a guest room. I was able to store most of my stuff in huge plastic containers that, should there be an Ondoy Part 2, will keep them safe and dry. But still, there were many bits and things still left on the couch (yes, there is a couch inside my room; that is what was left of our former living room set) and under my bed.

Two weeks ago my uncle went to Manila to attend a wake; my mom offered him my room. So when I stepped into my bedroom, it felt different yet familiar. The room was cleaner than I knew it to be. Yet the basics were there—my bed, the table beside it, the study table, the couch, the CD cabinets, the electric fan. And stacked on one side were the plastic containers.

On top of them were some of the items found under my bed and on the couch. I looked through them and wondered, “Did I leave any incriminating evidence amongst them, stuff that scream, ‘Your Kuya Joel is a faggot!’? Was I able to bring all of them with me to Makati?” But after a moment’s worry, I reconsidered: hey, isn’t that the easier way of coming out? No awkward confrontations, no forced admissions. Sure they may wonder, “Maybe those things aren’t his, but someone else’s,” but then really now. Or as the kids of today would retort: Weh.

But I didn’t see any proof. Perhaps I was successful in bringing them all with me. All I know for sure was this: had my mom cleaned my closet, all those gay magazines would surface. Yes, they’re still all there under the old clothes. Part of me wants them to remain there. Part of me wants them to be discovered. Part of me doesn’t care one way or another.

The next morning I departed with the magazines still in the closet. I wanted to leave some room for that private part of me—an outdated in-the-closet family secret that grows more irrelevant with age.

I moved out of my house to work near where I'm based now, and I remembered I left a set of vcd's in the closet, to which my mom has access should she be needing important documents for me and the family. I've never retreived those vcd's and I never cared to clear them. I'm wondering nga if they played that QAF season 1 cd na out of curiosty. Hehe.